Attack
by Angelwings228
Summary: The Bad Touch/Friends Trio: the group that pwns all and knows all. Oh, and that other Italian guy on a Vespa that keeps shooting at them. Mafia style.


00:01

**I got back from Feli and Lovi's place not too long ago and I got obsessed with Hetalia, the Mafia and Romano. Which leads to this.**

**Gah, all my intros suck.**

**Enjoy,**

**Romanochi**

"_MEIN GOTT_?"

Several people in the busy streets of Spain glared at the silver haired 'Prussian' who had just slammed down a cup of black coffee. The small white cup quivered before falling into two neat halves, leaving coffee everywhere. To most people, the trio may have looked strange, but not suspicious.

Never suspicious.

It wasn't exactly a common place to see a native Spaniard, a tall Frenchman, and a very nearly albino German all seated in front of a café, talking rapidly in a mix of languages.

"I can't believe you lost all that by gambling, _dumkopff_!" roared the albino.

"_Na_, Gilbert, _mon ami_. It was all an accident!" sang the blonde Frenchman.

Gilbert narrowed his distinct red eyes.

"Don't '_mon ami'_ me you little-"

As he lunged to strangle the blonde a tanned hand blocked his way while the other steadied the rocking table.

"Please, Gil, don't kill Francis. It's only 2 in the afternoon."

Gilbert sighed and glared at the Spaniard. Then, with a sigh, he sat back heavily.

"_Mercy_, Antonio" said Francis, downing the last of his drink.

Antonio shook his head as Gilbert turned his glare to Francis. The French had lost over 2000 USD worth of money. Probably to an American who was far better at risking money than he was. Gilbert crossed his arms and opened his mouth to speak when a sharp snap rang out. There was only a moment of silence before life resumed. Shootings were common these days, as were the groups of people who banded together like the Mafia. It was highly popular, but only those with a purpose managed to play and survived. The other either gave up or died while trying.

Antonio, Francis, and Gilbert were no exception.

Their interest in the 'Re' groups, as they were called, started at a young age. It was just a game…that eventually became their entire lives. More gunshots pierced the air and Gilbert snorted.

"You wouldn't have done anything stupid enough to set another bunch of Re on us would you, Francis?"

The blonde shook his head.

"Non, unless our _'petit ami espagnol'_ decided to go raiding again"

Antonio grinned. Famed for his skill in theft, speed, and agility, it wasn't too hard to steal from the fake newbie Re groups.

"No, I haven't. I'm sure it won't be anything too big today"

3 more gunshots.

"Or not" Gilbert replied, smirking.

Antonio stood up, looking in the direction of the gunfire. A faintly worried expression crossed his face. Francis put a hand on his friends shoulder.

"We shouldn't get involved." He said seriously "It would be no good"

Antonio still remained standing, but didn't move. Francis was right. Gilbert craned his neck, straining to see what was going on. There were no other sounds of violence for a while. The silver haired man sighed, clearly disappointed.

"Guess they just died" he muttered.

Antonio, on the other hand, was slightly relieved. Even if he was a part of the somewhat evil, underground Re government, he didn't like to see his country get ton up from the inside. He turned back to the table but froze as the hairs on the back of his neck rose.

"This-" said Francis.

Then, from a tiny alley, burst a large black and silver motorcycle. It was too big to even squeeze into the alley but something else followed after. The vehicle was smaller than the industrial motorcycle but it was still too big to fit comfortably into the tiny space. It sped past in a-wait. Was that a mint green Vespa? The motorcycle turned a corner, sending up dust as the Vespa appeared behind it. The Vespa, in all its Italian glory, sped up to match the speed of the bike. The two raced across the square, nearing the café.

"Move!" yelled Gilbert, pushing back the first row of tables.

The motorcycle came dangerously close to wrecking the café, and the Vespa even closer. They both left skid marks on the pavement as they drove off. Francis rushed out to see where they had gone.

"_Gottverdammt_!" cursed Gilbert.

Antonio stood for a moment blinking. Francis nudged his as Gil kept ranting.

"Hm? A little out of it?" he asked.

Antonio stayed silent, then spoke slowly.

"He wasn't wearing a helmet" he muttered.

"What?" asked Gilbert

As the mint Vespa had turned at the café, the Spaniard had caught a glimpse of the driver. He was a young, dark haired guy, probably younger than any of the trio. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of tinted visors.

And that was it.

Most people, even Re, wouldn't dare go speeding on a bike with a helmet, much less go that fast. If you didn't, you would probably end up dead.

"No helmet, huh?" said Francis, running a hand through his hair. "He must be part of a good group."

Not too far away was the sound of a crash.

"And that would be him" said Antonio.

Gilbert turned on his heel and started walking in that direction.

"Where are you going?" Antonio asked, walking faster.

"To check it out, of course" Francis answered,

"And if he's not part of a group, alls good. If he is…well, then we've got a hostage" Gilbert added.

Antonio sighed at his friends logic but followed without a word

Lovino Vargas.

That's who he was.

Lovino Vargas was, in fact, not Spanish. He was fucking Italian, and he loved it. Lovino Vargas was a fighter. His aim was perfect, though only with a gun, and the speed he could ride at was legendary.

Funnily, it was only on a Vespa.

Lovino Vargas loved tomatoes and pasta. He only had one little idiot of a brother. Otherwise, he was alone. He fought for himself and his brother. Just himself and his brother. Lovino Vargas was currently pissed off.

And said Lovino Vargas had just crashed into a market vendor's stall.

With a groan, the young Italian got up. Good thing he landed in the tomatoes. He stalked over to the rider of the motorcycle and knelt next to him. Lovino took hold of the mans shirt and pulled him up so that they were level.

"You" he said "will give what you owe"

He let go and walked over to the motorcycle, which had taken a harder hit than his own little Vespa. He opened a compartment and took out a small, regular looking case. He opened it a crack and shut it quickly after taking something out.

Obviously, money.

He passed by the man and paused.

"_Pezzo di merda_" he hissed in his native language.

Then he walked over to the owner of the stall he and the man had wrecked.

"Sorry for all the trouble" Lovino said shortly, holding out several bills.

The vendor looked shocked. What sort of fucking reasonable member of a hit-and-kill gang gave money back to the person whose life he had ruined? But then again, the boy in front of him looked slightly embarrassed. The man smiled, slightly amused.

"Thank you" he said.

The Italian, at loss for words, tuned and went back to his Vespa. He disappeared down an alley.

"The hell?" said Gilbert, shocked and annoyed.

"That was a really…ah, strange Italian" Francis mused, stroking his almost nothing beard.

Antonio shrugged and Gil charged down the alley in search for the kid. He had been interesting before, with his talent. But the fact that he was somewhat moral just made him even more interesting. He would be a good ally and a bad enemy. That was a base of the Triad's easy connection. There were only three of them but they made it up in everything else. All of them were strong enough and smart enough to know that the real base of power was not manpower or firepower. If you just knew a few people and kept a few lies, all would fall into place. There was a loud snap and the trio came across the boy, still kneeling over the case.

"Oi" Gilbert drawled.

The boy looked up quickly, whipping out a gun as he did so, but no before three more pointed at him. The four stared at each other, not moving.

"What do you want" Lovino asked slowly.

"Just to know who you are and what group you work for" Antonio said seriously.

The boy looked at them all, his eyes flitting behind the visors.

"A potato-bastard, a perverted-bastard, and a bastard from Spain. Why would you want to know?"

Gilbert seethed.

"What did you call me…?" he asked, clicking the safety off his gun.

Lovino smirked

"Potato-bastard" he replied.

Gil resisted the urge to kill him then and there.

"All right" said Francis, feeling the tension building up "Reasonably, we wont kill you. So on the count of three, guns down. One. Two. Three."

No one moved. Antonio smiled. This kid knew how to play.

"What's with the money?" he asked.

"That fucking bastard owed us" Lovino said.

"And what for?"

"A lot of stuff. He was starving people because of it. And he knew it."

There was silence.

_Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz_

The familiar sound of a phone vibrating broke the silencing. Still no one moved. And the phone kept ringing.

"_Merda_" muttered Lovino.

"Oh hell" Gilbert whined, quickly growing tired of the game

They were fighting with a kid, for the love of God and all that's Holy. He threw his gun behind him and it set off, creating a hole in the side of a building. Lovino reached into his back pocket and pulled out a phone. Only did he set down his own gun when all three were gunless.

"Pronto?" he asked into his phone.

"_Ve~Fratello_!"

He winced as the other three held back surprised laughter.

"_You're late_!" the voice cried "_I was worried_"

"I'll be there soon, Feliciano" He said into his phone quietly.

"_Oh, Okay! Just don't be too long. Ciao!_"

Lovino shut his phone and got up, holding the case. He ignored the pointed looks from the creepy trio and walked over to his Vespa.

"Aren't you going to at least tell us your name?" asked Antonio.

Gilbert stepped in front of the Vespa, blocking the younger man from getting on and driving away. The two had a stare down. The boy gritted his teeth. Might as well get it over with before another call.

"Romano"

"How old?"

"Just 20."

"What group do you work with?"

Lovino scoffed. He was getting really pissed off now. It was just like an interrogation.

"I don't work for anyone but me, bastard," he said, stepping around Gilbert.

"Oh?" said Francis "But you ride beautifully"

Lovino pulled a face as he climbed on. He pushed his visors further up the slope of his nose and started the engine.

"Creeper" he muttered "Fucking creeper"

"So you haven't been recruited yet?" Antonio said.

All three the Italian's silence as a yes. Gilbert looked over to Antonio, eyebrows raised. Most triads didn't survive this far. For as long as they had remembered, it had been Antonio, Gilbert, and Francis. They'd never even thought about adding anyone else. Probably because they couldn't trust anyone. Lovi coughed and kicked off.

"There's somewhere I need to be so I'll leave you bastards to fuck off somewhere else"

"We'll be seeing you soon, _mon cher_!" Francis called after him.

"Like hell!" he yelled back.

When he was out of sight, Antonio chuckled. None of them had ever met a Re member, or a non-member, like him before.

"Think it's about time the Awesome Me's empire spread?" Gilbert smirked.

"Get over yourself" said Francis.

The two kept bickering as they walked into the square.

Lovino hid his Vespa out of sight before entering the apartment he shared with his brother.

"_FRATELLO_!~" Feliciano shrieked, immediately glomping his brother as he entered.

Lovino struggled under his brother's arms but Feliciano could have a strong grip when he wanted to.

"Get the fuck offa me…" he said.

Feliciano refused to move and Lovino finally gave up. The younger Italian let go soon, apparently remembering something.

"Ah! _Fratello_, we have company coming today!" he said, returning to the kitchen while smoothing his apron.

The apartment did smell like pasta. Hell, it always smelled like pasta.

"Agh" Lovino said as he followed his younger brother.

'_Company_' most likely meant Feliciano's potato-bastard of a best friend, Ludwig. Lovino paused. He had called the bastards from before a potato bastard too. They both had the same German air about them. Psh, he hated Germans anyway so it didn't really matter.

"When is the idiot coming?" he asked, pulling open the fridge and searching for a tomato.

Feliciano shrugged and stirred some pasta.

"He should be calling…about now"

Sure enough, a phone rang and the younger Italian answered it.

"Lud?" he asked. "Uh huh, ve…oh sure…you should all come…okay…ve…_ciao_!"

Feli turned back to his brother who was holding several tomatoes.

"They'll be here in a few minutes" he said.

"Lovino frowned. He would have just enough time to grab some food and lock himself in his room.

Again.

He stuck a tomato in his mouth a got a plate. He was reaching for the ladle when Feliciano grabbed onto his arm.

"_Ve,_ _Fratello_. Don't lock yourself in again?" he said.

Lovino rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Just move" he said.

"Please?" Feli pleaded, "Just meet them, at least. They're nice!"

He had said 'they're'. That meant more than one bastard was coming.

"No way" he said.

"Please?

"No"

"Please?"

"No!"

"_FRATEEEEELLLLLLLOOOOOOOOO_" wailed Feliciano.

He started shaking his brother's arm around while whining.

"Gah, you idiot. Fine." Lovino said.

Feliciano squealed and let Lovino get his pasta. While the younger was checking on the bread in the oven, the doorbell rang.

"Please get that, _fratello_!"

Lovino braced himself. He really hated his life right now. He reluctantly went to the door and opened it.

"Potato-bastard…" he said, preparing to launch curses at whatever group of Germans were at the door.

Blink

He slammed the door shut, locked it, and slid the two bolts over it.

"What it is?" Feliciano asked, coming out the kitchen apron free.

He opened the door to reveal Ludwig, looking slightly surprised and annoyed, and…

"AGH, YOU BASTARDS" Lovino yelled, pointing.

**Guess who?**

**Ahaha, I tried to add in some words in their native languages. I'm not sure if I'm right, so please correct me if I was an idiot.**

Fratello- Italian- brother

Ve- Felicianoian- unknown

Merda- Italian- shit

Pezzo di merda- Italian- piece of shit

Ciao- Italian- hello/goodbye

Mon ami- French- my friend

Mon cher- French- my dear

Mercy- French- thank you

Petit ami espagnol- French- Little Spanish friend

Mein Gott- German- My God

Gottverdammt- German- Goddammit

Dumkopff- German- idiot

**Review! Reviews are my food (besides tomatoes) and I will starve to death if you don't feed me. Yes, I am poor. But I do have a set of chibi nations that I can set on you. Especially France. Beware the France.**

**Thanks, **


End file.
